


Tipping Point

by Sweetloot



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know how to tag this, M/M, also kind of angry!caboose, happy and kinda funny in places I hope, lots of POV switches because I don't know what happened, not as sad and angsty as I could have made it you're welcome, spoilers for season 12 episode 15, the tuckington and the grimmons are just hinted though, this is about caboose with a lot of blue team feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetloot/pseuds/Sweetloot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Caboose heard what Wash had said, but it was like someone broke the TV in Blue Base again and there was nothing but static in his brain...</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tipping Point

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [comecrywithme](http://comecrywithme.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and based off of their [post](http://rookie-donut.tumblr.com/post/95787801691) because I got a cool mental image from it (though my fic isn't as sad as the original prompt.)

Caboose heard what Wash had said, but it was like someone broke the TV in Blue Base again and there was nothing but static in his brain, a low buzz that would spike the longer Wash talked about how they had to dispose of Freckles, about how it was Freckle's fault that everything was going bad, until he couldn't even hear Wash at all. He was sure Wash was still speaking, what with the way his helmeted head was bobbing around, but he couldn't hear it. 

There was a thumping in his ears now, joining the static in crowding his head and making it hard to think, hard to get what he wanted to say to form into words. He couldn't find the words, they were running away; come back. 

Wash was walking up to Caboose now, and Caboose followed him with his eyes, unable to tell him that he had just gotten his friend back, how could he take him away again? How could he, how could he take away his friend? 

Things were getting fuzzy, Wash was still talking, but he was getting blurry. Something slid down the side of Caboose's nose, down until it dripped off his chin. It tasted salty. Like chips, only not, and it was stinging his eyes. 

It just wasn't fair! Everyone always left! And when they came back, they were taken away again. He was so tired of it! 

Caboose wasn't aware that his hand had jerked out, right in the middle of Wash asking if the other was okay. Wash had been standing with his stance open, relaxed, if a little unsure, so he wasn't ready to have a hand grip the underside of his chest plate, wasn't prepared to be yanked forward and lifted off the ground, the toes of his boots just barely scraping against the dirt. 

"No."

It was a single, firm word, tinged with anger. It wasn't shouted in rage, wasn't sobbed, wasn't whined or pleaded, just stated with the kind of resoluteness that was so uncommon of the cobalt soldier that everything seemed to come to a standstill.

"...Caboose."

It was Tucker, edging his way closer to the larger soldier, careful not to break the tension that seemed to be mounting by the second. His voice was tinted with weariness, but held a forced sort of calmness to it. 

Caboose didn't move, didn't respond, his arm still held out and holding the ex-freelancer. Tucker couldn't see the muscles of Caboose' arm, but he would swear that they didn't waver as he held Wash up.

Tucker turned his head towards the others, his head inclined in a way that was asking for help.

Carolina flexed her fingers, her hands forming back into fists. She looked like she wanted to just yank Wash away and put him back on his feet, looked like she wanted to shake Caboose, but also like she knew she couldn't do either of those things, not yet, not with the usually harmless (she would use that term loosely) oaf suddenly threatening one of her men. She'd couldn't do anything, not while Caboose was on a hair trigger and not with the way her leg was throbbing at her.

Church (Epsilon) was flickering over Carolina's shoulder, Tucker couldn't tell what he was thinking, just surprised the other wasn't shouting already. He flickered a few feet towards Caboose, perhaps with the intention of possessing him, but stopped, Carolina shaking her head minutely and Church retreating. They probably had one of those non-talking talks in their heads. Tucker wasn't sure what she had said, but he was glad Church hadn't tried to jump into Caboose when the other man was already angry. Having an A.I pop into his already unstable brain probably wouldn't have made things any better.

Grif was ducked behind Simmons, the maroon's taller frame, yet slimmer build, doing a poor job of hiding the bigger man. Simmons had his hands held near his chest, the fingers twitching like he wanted to be holding his gun, his body was pitched backwards slightly into Grif like he wanted to not be there just as badly as Grif did. 

Sarge was standing with his back rigid, hands holding his shotgun and feet placed like he had taken a step forward, but stopped like he wasn't sure that was the right course of action.

Donut was just staring, head canted like he wasn't sure what he was seeing.

Dr. Grey looked like it was fucking Christmas, what with all of the head scanning and wound sewing she was envisioning as being in her future.

And _none_ of that was helping Tucker right now.

Tucker tried again, hands held open to show he wasn't armed, "Caboose, buddy? You still in there?" All of this was giving Tucker horrible flashbacks to O'Malley, to the way Caboose would threaten Tucker “in a scary voice.” It made Tucker's skin crawl, but he resisted the urge to shudder. This wasn't O'Malley, or fucking Omega, whatever that fuck's name was. This was Caboose, who was probably having a mental breakdown or something and was probably going to crush Wash like tissue paper, shit, shit, this was not good.

Stop, stop it. What was that thing they always told him when going into negotiations? Something about not panicking? Yeah, that was it. Don't panic, stay calm, no matter who you're talking to, no matter if they look scary as fuck and like they would eat you for breakfast (which was a lot of people considering he had been a diplomat for aliens that had teeth the size of his finger and mouths that could fit his entire head...that wasn't helping).

Next, talk and listen. Okay, he could do that.

"Caboose?"

Caboose's fingers twitched where they were holding Wash up. Tucker wasn't sure if that was a sign that Caboose had heard him from wherever he his mind had retreated, or if he was just flexing a cramp out of his hand, but Tucker would take what he could get and just rolled with it. "Hey, buddy, how about putting Wash down? We're all friends here, remember? You told Wash yourself when Wash got all sappy and fixed your helmet."

"I wasn't being sappy-"

Caboose dropped Wash to his feet, his boots hitting the ground with a thud, but he still held tight to Wash's chest plate. Caboose's head dropped, is visor facing his feet.

"No."

"Caboo-"

"No! It's not Freckles' fault!"

Caboose had shaken Wash a little while saying that, the ex-freelancer's hands darting reflexively out to grab Caboose's wrist tightly, but loosened hearing Caboose's exclamation. Wash sighed, patting Caboose's wrist, saying softly, "I know."

Caboose lifted his head, visor staring into visor.

"I know it isn't Freckles' fault. If we're going to be blaming anyone, then we're blaming me."

"But Wash-"

"It's the truth, Tucker. I shouldn't have taken the chip from Locus in the first place. I had been on guard the moment I woke up in the Fed Base, but I slipped up. I wanted to believe that we were getting what little of my team was left back together so _badly_ that I believed Locus, and that was a mistake. I made the wrong decision and that almost cost us and I'm sorry, Caboose."

Caboose's shoulders sagged, his tight grip on Wash's chest plate loosening, but not letting go entirely. "But can't we give Freckles' a second chance, like we gave you?"

Wash felt his chest tighten, and he knew it wasn't because of the grip he had been feeling. "I don't think-"

Tucker could see that things were starting to spiral down by the way Caboose was starting to close his fingers tighter against the gray metal again, so he decided this was the moment he would see if all that diplomat training bullshit would actually come in handy...or if he was about to get his head punched in.

Tucker stepped forward, gently putting his hand on Caboose shoulder. "Hey, Caboose?" Caboose turned his head towards Tucker, "I think I've got an idea that'll make everyone happy...or at least less like someone is about to get murdered. Hey, Church!"

Church flickered in front of Tucker, "What?"

"Do you think you could go inside Freckles and see if he's still working?"

"What do I look like, a calculator? Of course I can fucking do it!" Church looked around like he was about to get to work, before turning back to Tucker, "What, in the actual fuck, is a 'Freckles'?"

"It's Caboose' dog."

"What."

Tucker could hear Grif mutter, _'yeah, if dogs were twelve feet tall and had canons for legs.'_

Wash gestured to Cabooses hip, to a small, rectangular piece of plastic sitting innocently against the blue armor. "That's Freckles."

Church hummed consideringly, "Alright, I'll bite, but if I get stuck in that thing..."

"We'll come get you," Caboose finished, holding out his hand, Freckles laying on it. Caboose had let go of Wash by then, all his attention on Church.

Church sighed, "Yeah, I know you will," before disappearing into the chip.

Everything was tense, all eyes watching the chip in Caboose's hand...

...when the chip jumped an inch off Caboose' hand before a blur of blue sped out of it.

"Holy shit! What the fuck was that thing!"

Caboose seemed to beam, "Church! You're back, did you meet Freckles?"

Tucker wasn't sure why Church was breathing hard, considering he didn't have any lungs, but he was huffing when he said, sentence choppy between his breathes, "What, the, _fuck_."

Wash just hummed, "Ah, so Freckles is still in there."

Church turned to Wash, "No one fucking told me I was invading a fucking Mantis-class, military assault droid!"

Tucker scoffed, "What are you bitching about? It's not like it even has canons anymore!"

Church turned to Tucker, getting up in his face, as much as an A.I can, "You try getting your DNA jerked around and see how you like it!"

"Shut up, it couldn't have been that bad."

"Not that bad-!"

"Enough!" Carolina walked up to Tucker, crossing her arms. "I don't care what this 'Freckles' is, but Caboose seems...attached to it, so you better have a plan or else it's going to have to...leave, in a very permanent way." Tucker could see Caboose flinch from the corner of his visor.

Tucker held up his hands, backing away slightly, "Relax, I said I've got a plan. Now that we know that Freckles is still in there, maybe we can do something about the tracker _and_ make sure Freckles doesn't get toasted at the same time."

Tucker couldn't see Carolina's face, but he was sure she as raising an eyebrow at him, "And how do you propose we do that?"

Tucker's face fell, "Uh..."

"We could reverse engineer it."

All heads turned to face Simmons, the maroon soldier taking a step back into Grif with all of the attention suddenly on him. Grif shoved Simmons forward. Simmons stumbled before righting himself up again. "Uh, I mean, if we can figure out how the tracker works maybe we can use it to track the signal back to its point of origin."

Wash went over to stand by Tucker, arms crossing as he thought about what Simmons had said, "Back to Locus."

Tucker was unconsciously mimicking Wash's stance, "And Felix."

Carolina nodded her head, “If it can lead us to them, then do it...even if there is collateral damage along the way.” She said the last bit with the kind of resolute weariness that happens when making a call that may not be on the moral high road, but would get them where they needed to go, in the end.

Wash turned back to Caboose, who was standing with his hands pulled inward, towards his chest, shoulders hunched and head down, like he was folding in on himself. He was stroking the chip in his hand gently with one finger, all traces of his former anger gone, but appearing to be replaced with the kind of sadness one feels when the inevitable is around the corner and nothing can prevent it from happening.

Well, Wash could try.

“Caboose?” Walking closer to the cobalt soldier, patting the gloved hand that was covering Freckles, Wash asked, “Do you trust me?”

Caboose tilted his head, his foot beginning to rub anxious circles into the dirt, before he mumbled, “Of course, we are friends.”

“Then trust me when I say that we will do everything to make sure Freckles is safe again.”

Caboose paused for a minute, seeming to debate with himself, before straightening up from his hunched position, hand outstretched, but this time not grabbing at Wash, merely laying his hand out, palm up, with Freckles resting in the center. “Okay, I trust you.”

Wash picked up Freckles, but not before Caboose grabbed onto his wrist, leaning forward beside Wash's head, whispering loudly, “Just don't let the scary doctor lady touch him. She sings and people scream for some reason, that is weird.”

Wash nodded, the memory of Dr. Grey singing with the sound of buzzing tools in the background not one he wanted to be reminded of, before backing away from Caboose, handing the chip over to Simmons, nodding his head subtly for Dr. Grey to follow anyway when Caboose's attention wasn't on her. She may have been frightening, but she was one of the most intelligent people Wash had ever met, so...this was one of those moments where what Caboose didn't know, won't hurt him...hopefully.

“Well,” Church said, the word sounding long and languid, like he was stretching while speaking, “looks like that's my cue to pet that fucking rabid dog again, 'cause we all know you're all just going to end up doing something stupid like boosting the tracking signal if I'm not there to fix everything.” 

Tucker just waved a hand at Church, middle finger extended, “Yeah, yeah, you're genius code and we're lumpy flesh monkeys. Get the fuck out of here, light bulb.”

Church flipped him off, “Suck my dick.”

“Ha! You don't have one.”

“Or do I?'

“...wait, do you?”

Wash could have sworn the A.I looked smug before flickering away, Carolina walking over to where Simmons and Dr. Grey had disappeared.

“Well, this has been sickeningly touchy feely,” Sarge said, with a voice sounding like it was on the verge of turning into vomit. “Come on, let's go before they start handing out the tissues and the mint ice cream and start talking about their feelings again.”

Wash could hear Sarge grumble as he walked away, saying _'no they don't have ice cream, Grif! Where are they gonna to get ice cream on an alien planet with a gas station that looks the inside of a Johnny House?'_ The both of them continuing to argue while Donut exclaimed, _'hey, I've got a copy of my smooth jazz album in my helmet! Maybe we could stay and add to the atmosphere? Wouldn't that be great!'_ Wash wasn't sure what else was said after that, only that it was accompanied by a chorus of _'no!'_ and _'fuck no!'_.

Wash turned to Caboose and Tucker, sighing, “Well, that was emotional.”

“Yeah, I feel a little bit uncomfortable.”

Wash just snorted, “Please, you were the one spilling your guts a few hours ago.”

“Oh, fuck you, dude.”

Tucker made to walk away, but Wash grabbed at his elbow, making Tucker turn around, “What?”

Tucker couldn't see Wash's face, but he sounded sincere when he said, “You know you can talk to me whenever, right? I know I can be a dick sometimes, but I will listen.”

Tucker shook away Wash's hand, his face heating up and his thankfulness that he was wearing a helmet skyrocketing past the usual levels of 'thank-fuck-I'm-wearing-this-that-bullet-almost-made-out-with-my-forehead'. “Yeah, yeah, I know Wash. You're a paranoid dick with emotional issues, but you do care even if you're a snarky piece of shit while doing it.”

Tucker could hear the smile in Wash's voice, “Yeah, that's pretty much it.”

Tucker couldn't help but laugh at how easily Wash accepted that, “Yeah, okay, Wash. Feel better, Caboose. Try not to kill anyone.”

“Okay!”

Then it was just Wash and Caboose, the cobalt soldier rocking back and forth on his heels. Wash went to stand beside him, looking out towards the gas station and beyond towards the caves, hoping that their teleportation jump had distanced themselves far enough away from Locus' mercs so that they could take a minute to rest. Wash had the feeling that not just Caboose was suffering from all that has been laid on them.

“Caboose?”

“Yes, Wash?”

“Thanks for not punching my chest in.”

Caboose's voice held a smile, “You're welcome.”

“...and for trusting me. I know I can make that difficult sometimes.”

Caboose scoffed, patting his hand on Wash's back, while Wash made a valiant attempt not to stumble forward. “Do not worry, Wash. You just like being mysterious and dramatic sometimes.”

Wash huffed, “No, I don't.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don't.”

“Yep.” Caboose made the end of the word pop on the _'p'_ , his voice filled with smugness like he won some sort of grand argument.

Wash just sighed good naturedly, clapping the taller soldier on the back as he lead him towards the gas station, their temporary base, as it would seem. “Yeah, sure, Caboose. Let's go see how Freckles is doing.”

“Oh! Do you think he'll get a lollipop after he's done?”

Wash shook his head as they reached the station's doorway, “I don't know, Caboose. I'm not sure we have any. How about you look for one?”

Caboose jumped excitedly at that, rushing through the doorway and almost knocking Wash over, “Great idea!”

Wash could hear the ruckus Caboose was making. He could hear Caboose rushing around, looking through half empty metal shelves, knocking things over in his rush. He could hear Sarge's loud, biting curses saying, _'Goddammit, Caboose! Watch where you're going you lumbering ox!'_ He could hear Caboose's happy exclamation of, _'Sorry, Mr. Sargent! I'm looking for a lollipop for Freckles!'_ and Donut's eager agreement to help, followed by Grif saying that _'if you find one, it's mine!'_ Wash could just make out Caboose yelling _'dibs!_ while Grif cursed and Sarge laughed about Grif forgetting the International Dibs Protocol.

Wash shook his head, leaning against the doorway as he looked out over the dirt road. Wash knew Caboose had an explosive anger, if provoked. That, combined with his strength, often made him an unforeseen Juggernaut, he had just never seen the cobalt soldier angry like that without Church's influence. He should have Dr. Grey speak with him (even though he thought she was scary), just to see what other sorts of repressed things the soldier may be feeling. It wouldn't be good for him to bottle those sorts of feelings up again, not unless he wants a repeat of what just happened. Maybe they could get Caboose to channel that anger in a more positive way... 

...like towards Locus and Felix's heads. 

Yeah, that would probably make _everyone_ feel better. 

It would take a while before they were ready for that though, everyone needing to rest and regroup, plan and organize. They have part of a plan, it would need to be polished, but maybe they can do it. Wash can already see how his team (Reds included) have changed since being separated and, at least in the case of Tucker, he can see that change has been for the better. Maybe, _just maybe_ they could pull through and do this. They could stop the war, stop the piracy, the lies and deceit. Maybe they had the skills necessary to- 

“ _Goddammit_ , Caboose! I told you not to open the bathroom door! There aren't any lollipops in there, moron!” 

“Sorry!” 

“Grif! What did you do! What is that god awful smell!” 

“It wasn't me, Sarge! Caboose opened the fucking door with the body in it!" 

“Well get it out of here! It smells like you and a donkey fornicated, took a shit, then rolled in it!” 

“...I don't know how to respond to that.” 

“Just find a shovel!” 

“We don't have shovels!” 

“Then shoot it a damn grave, I don't care, just get it out of here!" 

“Oh god, I think I'm going to be sick.” 

“Grif, don't throw up now! You'll just make it worse. Put your back in to it. Lift with your groin!” 

“It's lift with your legs, old man!” 

“Well lift with something! Where is Lopez when you need him?” 

– or maybe they should just rely on dumb luck. Hopefully they had enough of that left. 

Wash headed inside, getting ready to break up an argument involving a corpse. He can't believe this is his life. 

And out past the gas station, up on one of the surrounding cliffs, looking down over the scene, is Lopez shaking his robotic head and scoffing at the morons he's forced to be in the company with, “Idiotas. Espero que mueran.” 

**Author's Note:**

> (Lopez said, "Idiots. I hope they die," because he's a bitter robot who's tired of all their shit. Hopefully I got that right. My Spanish isn't very good...)
> 
> I couldn't figure out how to end this, hopefully it ended well. Do point out any typos or anything, I'm tired of editing this thing.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> P.S: This was my mental image:
> 
> #i just had the mental image of caboose jerking out his hand #and lifting up wash by his chestplate and just saying ‘no’ #while wash dangles from caboose holding him up with one hand

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Error](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2214066) by [Lieutenant_Kader (geekstar)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekstar/pseuds/Lieutenant_Kader)




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